


Fourteen Days

by grammarpolice



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crying Keith (Voltron), Family, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Foster Siblings, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Protective Team, Scared Keith (Voltron), Sick Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:25:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grammarpolice/pseuds/grammarpolice
Summary: {DISCOUNTINUED}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I already have a work like this (titled the same and everything) but I didn't like the way I wrote it. I liked the concept but was frustrated with my impatience and construction. I decided to start again but have left the old chapters up (if you're interested). Anyways, it is the same idea-- just formatted differently. So, if you were into the last "Fourteen Days," give this a chance :)

_Whoever_ said that all snowflakes looked the same was a liar. 

Keith, (who, to be fair, was not in the best frame of mind) was confident that he could prove that very theory wrong. 

Having grown up in a desert, Keith had never seen snow before. He supposed this fact made his argument less relevant, however, at this very time, he was sure he'd seen enough of the godforsaken stuff to last a lifetime. Trust him, when it's all pounding down in violent disarray, coating every inch of the horizon, it looks pretty damn similar.  

He trudged forward, swollen pride long abandoned.

It was difficult to string together a coherent thought; his head pounded, a mask of haze draped over his frame and his vision was faltering fast. With each step agony flared through his limbs-- everything hurt. 

The wind howled through his ears as if to further perplex his already exhausted brain. Keith felt like a ghost, stalking across an old, faded memory. 

If he was being honest, "ghost" didn't seem so far off. 

It was a morbid thought, he knew, but the words had been simmering in the back of his mind for a while now:

Was he going to die? 

If he was, he wished it would be now. Right here, in the wasteland of an endless blizzard.  

Keith didn't really want to die; somewhere, lost in the frenzy of a pounding skull, he knew that.

But if he thought about it, what was there really to live for?

His team, maybe.

But would they really find him? He was beginning to lose hope. Maybe they weren't even looking.  

Keith stumbled, earning a faceful of frostbitten snow. 

His torso growled, anguish ripping through his abdomen. With a dull breath, he guided a shaking hand to his side, fingertips pulling away thick with scarlet. The snow beneath him began staining red-- a reminiscent of where a soldier had fallen. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, the snow was falling fast and his lifeless corpse would be covered soon; forgotten. 

 _This is it,_ he thought,  _I give up._

In a sick kind of way, Keith was happy it had been him. He knew had it been any other paladin, except perhaps Shiro, they wouldn't have lasted this long. 

None of them held the same kind of fight as Keith-- the fight Keith _used_ to have _,_ anyway.

Either way, they didn't have to suffer. Keith would give anything-- lose everything--to save them from one ounce of pain. 

If anything for his dying thought, he wanted to know that he had done everything he could to protect his team. But had he really? 

He was the one who got himself captured in the first place-- caused unnecessary emotions, anxiety, fights, stress. He'd left them vulnerable without Voltron; endangered the universe. 

In the end, he failed. 

He rested his pulsing skull on powder beneath him, the cold suffocating his senses. 

With a final, broken inhale he thought,  _I always fail._

 ~

If Lance said one more word about how cold he was Shiro was going to lose it.

They'd been walking for God knows how long across a miserable winter planet. A blizzard raged above the paladin's heads, growling angrily into the atmosphere. Clearly, the planet wasn't very happy about their being there, either. 

"Shiro..." 

"Lance, we get it, we're cold, too!" Pidge snapped, the heavy breeze stealing most of her voice. 

Lance huffed, "calm down, I wasn't even talking to you!" 

"Yeah, well, we're all right here, so, you're sorta talking to all of us, don't you think?" 

"I was just going to say-" 

Hunk snorted, "you're cold, we know." 

"Hey, who involved you! And, anyway, I was complaining about a different thing this time." 

"What do you mean 'this time-'" 

Shiro raised a hand, unsure he could yell over the loud of the storm. "Quite, guys," he scolded, "we're supposed to be scouting the planet for life." 

"I don't think there's any life, Shiro. Besides, doesn't a hot cup of cocoa sound real nice right about now?" Lance smirked. 

"Is there even something like hot chocolate in space?" Pidge wondered, brows furrowing. 

Hunks face lit up. "I'm sure I can make something like it, there are a few things in the-" 

"Guys, focus." Shiro hated being the bad guy, he really did, and he supposed that their conversation did help him forget about the cold, but, he wanted this mission to be over as fast as possible-- he needed to get back to searching for Keith. 

They walked for the next few minutes in silence, which Shiro was thankful for. 

The wind howled overhead, tussling snow (and ice, might he add) through the tundra. Shiro was about this close to calling quits and heading back to the castle. Lance and Hunk's hot cocoa wasn't seeming--

 "'No life', my ass." Pidge's voice was nearly inaudible above the rage of the storm, but it cut the tension like a knife. 

Shiro matched his gaze to hers, squinting as the cold stung his eyes. 

"Are you sure? I don't see anything!" Hunk shouted over the wind, eyes narrow. 

Pidge frowned, pointing her finger, "It's right there!" she promised, "I swear!" 

Shiro's eyes grew. It was about fifty feet ahead, easy, but she was right; there it was, a black mound against the white page of snow. 

Shiro ran forward, the teenagers quick on his heels. 

There was something, nearly drowned in the snow. Shiro knelt down next to the figure, cautiously brushing the freeze off. Its hair, raven in color, so familiar, it almost looked like--

"If I didn't know any better," Lance started, a sad foreshadow in his voice, "I'd say it was--" 

Shiro heaved the body from the snow, holding them close to his chest. 

A single, strangled sound escaped from someone's throat. "Keith?" 

 

Keith woke with a jostle.

There were figures standing above him, their muffled voices pounding through his eardrums. 

Was he dead? 

He couldn't be. He was still in that godforsaken wasteland; if this is what the afterlife looked like, he wanted to go back to the living, thank you very much. 

His thoughts were fuzzy, heart racing. He was dizzy and tired, it took a moment too long for him to realize he was being carried.

By who, he didn't know. 

So, as any rational person in his position would do, Keith screamed and trashed in their arms (though, in his current state, he wasn't sure he was putting up a valid fight). 

He struggled, blood pooling on the edge of his senses. Every fiber in him was riddled with agony, but still, he fought. 

His throat was raw; with each shrike, he tore its already shredded muscle tissue. 

But he didn't stop. 

He screamed, and writhed, and cried, and kicked against the carrier's chest until his breaths came out in sputtering heaves. 

By now, the figure should have dropped him-- or, at the very least, done something to quite the boy down. But it didn't. It just kept walking. 

That's what scared Keith the most. They wanted him alive. 

The question was: who? 

Vision faltered, head spinning, throat torn, body aching, and sense lost, Keith lost consciousness. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's kinda crappy i'm sorry. i hope you enjoy nonetheless. i'm thinking about having a goal of updating every sunday, what do ya think? and also, is started talking about a candle and trying to make a comparison??? um. sorry. not really sure what was going through my head at midnight. i dont know what i'm talking about either. you're not alone. you'll see

Lance didn't think anything could be scarier than watching Keith scream and thrash against  _Shiro,_ of all people's, hold. 

That is until the boy went limp in the leader's arms. 

Lance's heart stopped, blood pumping cold. 

Shiro halted, spinning on his heal and dropping to his knees. He ripped his helmet off without a second thought, leaning his ear against Keith's chest. 

The scene was quiet, except for, perhaps, the paladin's own panicked breaths. 

Lance licked his lips nervously. "Sh-Shiro?" he asked, voice quiet, shook with apprehension, "is h-he--" 

"No." Shiro's voice was cool, a failed attempt to mask his overwhelming anxiety. Lance could see right through him. 

"Are you s-" 

"I can feel him breathing, but we need to get to Black-- right now." 

He collected Keith and stood up, picking up a swift gait. The rest of the team followed, running (as best as they could, at least) through the almost knee-high snow. 

The storm was picking up, swirling fiercely overhead. Shiro had wrapped his thick, black coat around Keith (courtesy of Allura, who, by some miracle, had found the stash of winter gear hidden in the depths of the castle), but he continued to tremble miserably. 

Shiro was only a few feet ahead of Lance, but the snow hid most of his frame. It also didn't help that unshed tears welded in Lance's eyes, making it a struggle to focus.

Honestly, he'd never realized how much he truly cared for Keith until his capture.

Of course, he'd always cared for Keith-- they were like brothers. 

Sure, he gave the kid a hard time (and trust him, the boy  _definitely_ knew how to get under Lance's skin), but he really did love him. He had just never appreciated _how_ much he loved Keith until he was gone. If the last two weeks had shown Lance anything, it was that he  _never_ wanted to live without his brother again. 

Maybe that's why it hurt so much. 

He was right there, Keith was  _right_ there, slipping away. 

A sick, stomach churning thought crossed Lance's mind: 

He might _actually_ lose Keith this time. 

And there was nothing he could do. 

What kind of brother was he? 

Next to him, Pidge let out a strangled cry, dragging Lance back to reality with a cruel start. 

He couldn't help his brother, but he sure as hell wasn't going to fail his sister, either. 

He wrapped an arm around Pidge, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Hunk emerged on her other side, shaking like a leaf, and pulled her close. Lance could tell he was full on sobbing. 

"He going to be ok, guys," Shiro reassured; though, he didn't seem so confident. His voice was riddled with concern and he spoke much quieter than Lance had ever heard him before. 

Lance took a heavy breath, eyes falling to the horizon. He scanned the surface, but all he could see was, maybe, ten feet ahead of him, thanks to the mounds of snow pounding down. 

"Pidge, are we close?' Hunk asked through a sniffle. 

Pidge licked her lips anxiously, whipping out a small tablet she had designed to keep track of the lions. "Black is close, it looks like we're right on top of--" 

 "I see her," Lance smiled, watching as the magnificent lion unhinged her mechanical jaw. 

Shiro sighed, eyes wandering to Keith's unconscious figure in his arms, "let's go home." 

~

When Allura had told the team that they were going to only take one lion, Black, to the planet because of the dangerous climate, Pidge hadn't been too thrilled. 

Sure, she understood why the decision had been made, but she had not been looking forward to arguing with the other paladins well crammed in a cockpit. 

Now, however, she was happy about the arrangement, seeing as they had found Keith and he needed to be tended to immediately. 

Wordlessly, the team had piled into the lion; Shiro had gently placed Keith in Hunk's lap and dashed into the pilot seat, knuckled turning white at his deathly grip on the controls.

Lance and Hunk had laid Keith across their laps for takeoff and Pidge had sat by the boy's head, running her fingertips through his greasy hair. 

After a rough exit from the planet (and nearly an ice chunk in Black's ribs, twice), they were on their way back to the castle, anxiety suffocating the air. 

Right away, Hunk located the first aid kit (though, Keith's injuries extended far over what a bandaid and some medication could fix). He rummaged through the ancient tools, muttering something along the lines of, "how long has this junk been here," before salvaging some disinfectant wipes. 

With Lance's help, Pidge managed to pull Keith's drenched, torn, and filthy shirt off, failing to stifle a gasp at the boy's torso. 

Hunk, whose stomach was about as strong as a cooked noodle, choose to keep Keith's head rested firmly in his lap, where he ran his meaty fingers through the paladin's greasy hair. That left the rest to Lance and Pidge. After grabbing the wipes from Hunk's grasp, Pidge began to inspect Keith, stomach writing in uneasy knots. 

The first thing Pidge noticed was lathered across Keith's mangled flesh; coating the air with a familiar, stomach curling, metallic scent.  With a thick gulp, she and Lance began to gently wipe at the scarlet. The girl's hands trembled as the life of her best friend seeped into her own pale skin.

Like the wick of a candle, her thoughts dissipated, only focused on keeping the red flicker of life ignited. Pidge supposed that Keith was like the wax of that very candle. Slipping farther from life, burned by the same flame. To Pidge, her and Lance, the wickers, and Keith, the wax, we're both trying to accomplish the same thing: life. 

Keith subconsciously whimpered, clawing Pidge back to reality with an uneasy jolt. 

Hunk breathed, "shh, Keith." His voice was soothing, grounding; the base of the candle, catching the wax before it falls too far. 

Pidge, against every plea of her heart, looked down at Keith's chest. Most of the blood was gone now (though, some still stained his bruised skin) which allowed the trio to get a better look at the boy. His flesh, pallor, was laced with cuts, and swollen, angry scars. Pidge's stomach jumped. Every rib on the boy's chest was either painted with agony or stuck out, distorted. 

Cautiously, Pidge strummed a single finger across the bones, wincing at the sharp edges that dug into the teenager--  frothing greedily to claw from his chest. 

That's when she saw it. Internally kicking herself for missing it before, her fingertips mindlessly guided her to a deep gash near Keith's lower right abdomen. 

The laceration was only about an inch wide, but Pidge estimated it was about two or three deep. Like a faucet, blood pooled from its depths, urging Pidge to sponge it up with the swollen cloth from earlier. 

Lance caught sight of the exchange, before placing down his stained material and rushing away n search of some more towels. Hunk, composer lost yesterday, hummed softly, to himself more than anyone, though Pidge found it quite soothing. He was still running a gentle hand through Keith's matted hair, working out the thick clumps of dry blood. Shiro, who Pidge was pretty sure had shut off every human emotion in existence, was muttering anxiously into his comms. Pidge could hear the familiar voices of Allura and Coran but couldn't hear what they were saying. 

Just then, Lance returned, dangling a single cloth lamely from his fingertips. 

"This is all I could find," he said, guilt-racked. He handed the towel to Pidge and took a seat on the opposite side of Keith, running a nervous hand through his own brown hair. 

Pidge offered a sad smile before turning her attention to the yellow paladin. 

"Hunk?" She tried to ignore the way her voice stuttered. "Was there any rubbing alcohol or something in the kit?" 

Hunk looked up, teary-eyed, from where his gaze had been locked on the red paladin. "Um, y-yeah, I think so." 

Without a word, Lance rummaged through the first aid kit, hand emerging with a bottle that somewhat resembled that of disinfectant. There were strange, Altean symbols etched onto the label, but Lance didn't see any skulls and crossbones so he figured it was fine. 

He handed it to Pidge, who took it with a grimace. 

_Sorry, Keith._

Pidge peeled the towel, plastered down with red, from the paladin's skin, wiping away any stray drips-- 

Hold up. 

"Lance, do you see that?" Pidge pointed deep into the cut, eye-catching on something glistening. 

No, I don't-- wait, right there? Yeah, hang on, what is that?" 

With a nervous grimace, Pidge hovered a hand over the wound, fingers like a claw machine. She scrunched her face as she reached into the blood, fingertips staining scarlet. 

She shifted her fingertips around, much to the others, and her own, dismay. Keith slithered uncomfortably in Hunk's grip but stayed asleep. 

Shaikly, Pidge pulled out the small, white object she had seen. 

_Is this--_

"Is that salt?" Lance shuttered, eyes wide. 

"I-I thi- yeah." Pidge stuttered. Her stomach churned. "Shrio..." 

"What's wrong?' Shiro's voice was frantic, heart rate spiking when Pidge didn't respond. "Pidge, is ev-" 

"They put salt in his cuts." 

Shiro muttered a colorful string of curse words, running an anxious hand through his hair. Though Pidge was sure Shiro wanted nothing more than to rush to Keith, she wasn't surprised when he said: "I trust you, Pidge. Help him. We're almost at the castle." 

Pidge bit her lip, nodding despite the fact the older paladin couldn't actually see her. 

_Fuck, this is gonna hurt more than I thought._

She looked to Hunk and Lance, "hold him down" 

Guilt-ridden, she unscrewed the cap of alcohol, tears streaming from her eyes as she looked at Keith. 

She poured it, immediately rousing the boy.

His eyelids flung open, nothing but white, hot pain. He screamed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. hope you enjoyed the chapter. there are two ways i can go from here in terms of keith's actions as a result of torture. one: very vacant, dull, quiet, and angry. he won't talk much and flinches away from everyone's touch (this will change in later chapters and the walls he built up will start crumbling down). two: right of the bat he is terrified. he wont leave shiro's side; he's a complete mess. essentially, no matter what option is picked, the story will flow into the same place. please please please help me pick i'm super indecisive! also, if you have any other ideas for his reaction or you have any requests/suggestions to develop the storyline let me know. let me know what you think. bye, see you with the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, everyone. disclaimer: this chapter's a little graphic, so if you're sensitive to that stuff please head on over to the next chapter-- you won't miss much. anyways, hope you enjoy! italics = past

_He's quite smaller than we thought, isn't he?"_

_"I suppose... hand me that, will you?"_

_There was a pause, followed by an incoherent shuffle._

_"Here, use this one."_

_Keith took a thick breath, struggling to maintain focus on the unfamiliar voices that wormed through his drowned out eardrums. His head pulsed against the surface, hard and cold, beneath him; burrowing into every last vertebra in his spine. When he attempted to shift his body weight, eager for a more comfortable position, pain flared through his limbs. Slow and steady, he tried again, writhing against what felt like some sort of rope as it dug deeper into his flesh. He opened his mouth, ready to demand an answer as to where the hell he was, and why he couldn't move when his gum brushed something that made Keith's blood run cold. He studied the foreign object for a moment, allowing his tongue to skim across its uneven surface. Divots inhabited its slick form, catching the flesh of Keith's tongue more than a few times in its clutches. It was harsh against the corner of the boy’s lips, driving into his worn skin; a familiar, warm liquid slithered down his chin. The taste of the object was almost metallic, a musty undertone laced in its seams; it was a chain, Keith guessed. With a chocked swallow, he pried open his heavy eyelids, blinking rapidly as new found light leaked into his pupils._

_The world was nothing more than a blur of purple, two incoherent faces, and one ungodly bright light._

_"Look who's up." a woman spoke, she was standing right above Keith, her breath hot on his neck. He attempted to shift away, tongue getting caught in between the chains joint in painful reminder._

_"None of that," another woman scolded, "the sedative is wearing off. Don't worry, you won't miss a thing."_

_A thousand questions crammed into Keith's throat, but the chain held them all. Instead, he allowed a single groan to escape his chest, ignoring the way it quivered in the air._

_"No, no. Let me give you something. Stay still." Keith squinted up, breath hitching as one of the women readied a needle. She looked impatient, skin creasing as she watched dark blue liquid suffuse the syringe._

_Saliva pooled in Keith's mouth, frothing at the corners of the chain. His stomach plunged, blood pounding through his ears in raucous disarray._

_Keith hated needles. Always had._

_The first time Shiro had taken Keith to the doctor was when he was nine. Somehow, the boy had managed to lodge himself under Shiro's chair, refusing to move until he was promised there would be no needles involved. Long story short, Shiro had convinced Keith that if he got a shot first, then Keith could, too. Of course, Keith later understood that Shiro hadn't actually gotten an injection, he'd merely been poked with a somewhat sharp pen that the doctors had told Keith was a "teenager" shot._ _Either way, Keith hadn’t felt alone._

_Now, however, Shiro was nowhere to be found and at that very moment, Keith had never felt more alone._

_Tears flooded Keith's senses._

_He wanted Shiro. Where was Shiro?_

_He thrashed against the restraints, ignoring how the chain cuts his gums. He coughed, nearly choking on the thick blood that oozed from his tongue._

_Still, he fought, wrists and ankles burning as rope fused with his skin._

_"Hold him down!"_

_"No!" Keith chocked, tongue flicking painful across the metal. He tossed his head back on fourth, attempting something, anything, to get away. His limbs spasmed against the metal surface beneath him, convulsing as something electrified through his left leg. He screamed, tearing his throat raw. He could feel the electricity ignite through his bloodstream, slashing across the bloody lining of his insides. It was like that time he'd gotten shocked on the swing at the playground, only thousands of times worse._

_Keith heaved against the metal chain, nostrils flaring. He felt cold, calloused hands linger around his left ankle, still twitching with aftershocks, her grip all but soft. He was too exhausted to shake her off; instead, he resorted to chewing aimlessly on the metal, attempting to restore his rattled breathing pattern._

_"See, that's a good boy." the one with the needle said. Though his vision was hazy, Keith could make out one thing; she was Galra. What other purple-skinned race could be so merciless?_

  _Despite himself, Keith sunk his teeth into the woman's flesh when she reached out to prep his neck for the injection._

_She squealed, recoiling back; Keith would be lying if he said a small smile hadn't played across his lips at her expense._

_The woman shot him a quick side glare before returning to rub gauze across his vein, this time more cautious of the boy. She gripped Keith's chin forcefully, dragging his gaze from the needle._

_She frowned, skin creasing, as Keith stiffened, "just hold still, it'll be over sooner for the both of us."_ _She guided the syringe to his vein, "it won't kill you... just close your eyes," she added as an afterthought._

_Keith's breath hitched, but he didn't resist the injection. He knew better than to flinch when a sharp object was near his skin. The last thing he wanted was to bleed out in front of two Galran women._

_The substance made his bones run cold the moment it entered his bloodstream. It slithered through his veins, nestling deep in his body._

_He suddenly felt very heavy. He attempted to shift to--_

_Wait. What the fuck?_

_He couldn't move. Panic seized his throat, stomach tossing._

_There was a shuffle near his head, a murmur of voices muttering something along the lines of  "he's all your now," and a set of heavy footsteps leering towards him._

_A high pitched screeched filled the air, followed by the sound of metal dragging across a floor. A rush of air flushed across Keith's skin and a presnse lingered nect to him._

_A heartchilling, low voice spoke, "this is gonna be fun"_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading.i know i ask a lot of questions but would you rather have the next chapter continue the flashback and then go back to the present, or go back to the present and continue the flashback at a later time? (it is also very possible for both to happen in chapter four, this is just in case.) leave a comment and/or suggestion if you'd like. i will update very very soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, everyone. i'm so, so sorry, this chapter's bad-- i all the sudden got super flushed well writing it? (not really sure why haha) so i've decided i'll make up for the horrendous writing in the next chapter. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy  
> (also, ps, the second half is a continuation from the flashback in chapter 3

"What the hell just happened?" Lance said as he collapsed into a nearby chair. Left dangling in the heavy air, unclaimed, his question wasn't directed to anyone in particular. Not that it was much of a question, anyways; more of a tension easer. Lance figured he was good at that, breaking the silence.

Pidge took a thick breath, slumping against Hunk's side with glassy eyes. She stared at her own shaking hands, still stained, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hunk wrapped a meaty arm around the girl and pulled her close, whispering soft nothingness into her hair. Hunk, Lance noticed, carried a vacant look on his face which only slightly softened as Pidge snuggled into his side.

In that very moment, Pidge reminded Lance of his little sister the night she had been rattled by a nightmare. She'd hovered by Lance's doorway, consumed in a cloud of sniffles, clutching her dearest teddy bear, George, against her chest. Lance had enclosed her into a tight hug, promising her protection. He'd never forget the way she sobbed into his shirt, grasping the cheap, blue fabric between her tiny fingers. What the girl had dreamt up, Lance wasn't sure; all he had to go off of was the occasional incoherent word sandwiched between a string of whimpers.

He'd guided the brunette back to her own bed, tucked her snuggly under the sheets with a gentle kiss on the forehead, and shuffled to the hallway. "Wait," she'd said, quietly. "Please don't leave me, Lancey."

That's how Lance had ended up sleeping on the cold, tile floor for three weeks.

Despite himself, Lance tore away from the reminiscent.

Tears welled in his brown eyes, which, in turn, he wiped away with the back of his stained sleeve.

His throat tightened at the scent of metallic that brushed against his nostrils. The fabric of his shirt was swollen with half-dried, scarlet liquid; Lance tried to ignore the way his soaked shirt clung to his middle, coating his skin in Keith's blood. His hands, down to under the fingernails, were caked in the stuff, twisting his stomach uneasily. He took an unsteady gulp, allowing his gaze to trickle to the eldest paladin.

Shiro was no more than two feet from Keith's pod, sat anxiously in the chair he'd dragged across the concrete floor.

It was sickening to Lance, watching Shiro run a stained hand through his hair, highlighting the white fringe crimson with his brother's blood.

The black paladin's face was hard. He bit his lip so harshly that Lance was certain any more pressure would draw blood.

A pair of footsteps behind him shook Lance back to reality. Coran and Allura appeared on his right side, cradling white towels in their Altean arms. Their faces were creased with something Lance couldn't quite pick up-- fear, exhaustion, worry?

Coran cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from left to right before speaking, "Paladins, would you like to get cleaned up and less..." he paused, biting his lip,"...dirty." No notion from the humans prompted him to add as an afterthought, "number 4 will not wake while you are gone."

Shiro lifted his head from his hands (Lance doubted he'd even heard the Alteans enter the room), facing the rest of the team with tired eyes. "Thanks, Coran," he started, "but I think I speak for all of us when I say we don't want to leave Keith."

Allura smiled sadly, "we figured you'd say that" she paused, gesturing to the towels that spilled over her arms," that's why we brought these."

~

_"This is gonna be fun." The voice, Keith noticed, was male. It was raspy and low; the words he'd spoken, so close that Keith could feel hot air on his neck, settled uncomfortably in the pit of the boy's churning stomach._

_The figure was somewhat blurry, a side effect of the serum, Keith was sure, and his face was concealed by a mask. It reminded Keith of what a doctor or dentist would wear, only it consumed all of the Galra but his beady yellow eyes._

_There was a ruffle and the clanking of metal behind Keith as the figure had moved out of view._

_The boy chewed aimlessly on the chain in his mouth, ignoring as warm liquid slithered down his esophagus and landed in his stomach with a sickening slosh. The world, it seemed, was fading away. Keith's body was already paralyzed from the injection, slowing in time with the rest of his senses. His eyes, so heavy, entreated to close. Maybe for just a_ momen _\--_

_"Paladin." The voice sounded impatient, though Keith, in some sick way, could detect a hint of something almost euphoric in it. "Are you as excited as I am?"_

_Keith's brows furrowed, over the chain he slurred, "_ e'ited f'or _'hat?"_

 _There was a cavernous laugh, one wriggling from the depths of the man's belly, before white-hot pain sunk into Keith's chest. He heard himself left out broken shriek after the other, but he was stuck in place. Keith wasn't sure why he couldn't move but could feel the pain. Somewhere in his scattered brain, he knew that was fully the_ Galra's _intention._

_Out of the haze of his vision, he saw the figure hold a thick blade to the sky, coated in angry scarlet._

_He brought the knife right to Keith's mouth, pushing the metal tip on his marked tongue. The boy's own blood, from both mouth and chest, trickled off of the blade, snaking its way down his throat._

_"Don't worry." The_ Galra's _voice was vivacious, "we still have plenty more tools to play with."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so i just wanted to say thank you for all the support on this somewhat (kind of really) crappy story. its my first time really writing anything like this. all of your feedback, reactions, comments inspire me so much. anyway, hope you enjoyed, let me now what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back sorry its been forever babes. this is literally just fluff and to get a feel for how much shiro loves keith. enjoy :)

Shiro hadn't expected Keith to be screaming when the pod doors hissed open. It left the kind of mark, stain on his heart that, though it would fade in time, would never fully be restored.

Keith crumbled to the floor in a cloud of siren and blur.

The room, apart from Keith of course, was completely still, silent. The air was thick with something Shiro couldn't quite detect-- sadness, fear, tension? Maybe all three.

The smoke, unlike Keith's whimpers, began to dwindle away, exposing a new layer to the atmosphere. Shiro felt it, they all felt it.

The black paladin's stomach sickened as another shriek escaped Keith's lungs.

Sure, he knew that when the boy awoke from the healing pod there would still be a lot of unresolved damage. He knew that. But, some part of his brain had tethered to the hope that everything would just go back to normal. That the Keith they'd gotten back would still be his Keith.

But, from the moment they'd found the red paladin on that godforsaken planet, Shiro knew it wasn't the same little brother he'd lost.

It wasn't the hot-headed, relentless Keith he'd watched grow up. It wasn't the Keith he'd baked with or taught how to tie his shoe. It wasn't the Keith he'd held hands with as they walked to the younger's kindergarten. It wasn't the Keith he'd been called to pick up from that same kindergarten only two hours later after a fight.

No. It was the skeleton of that Keith.

Instead, it was the scared, small kid that Shiro had first taken in.

It was the kid that couldn't read; the kid that flinched away at Shiro's every touch; the kid that didn't trust Shiro--that didn't trust anybody.

All those years Shiro had built a bond with Keith, all that trust they shared, gone in an instant.

It hurt so much. It hurt so damn much.

Shiro took a thick breath, looking back at his teammates. Their anxious faces crammed a thousand words into Shiro’s throat at once. He wanted to tell them it was going to be okay, that they were a team, that it was still Keith.

But how could Shiro promise something he himself was so unsure of?

If he’d learned anything over the years, it was that lying always caused damaged.

So, he settled on taking a few cautious steps toward Keith, instead.

The boy had pressed himself against the farthest wall from the team. He was still screaming, eyes screwed shut. His chest was heaving as he cowered deeper into the corner.

The scariest thing to Shiro was that he could barely recognize the crumpled boy in front of him.

All he could see was the scarred child that had built walls around himself for years, crumbled to dust.

It drew upon an instinct in Shiro that had lied dormant for years. A voice, soft in his mind, whispered like a broken record, protect him. That's exactly what he was going to do.

He was in front of Keith now, hovering far enough as to not crowd the teen. When Keith didn't react, he took it as an invitation to creep closer. He slowly eased into a sitting position against the wall, only a few feet from the younger.

Keith's face was nestled in his hands, knees pulled up to his chest.

Shiro, with the lightest touch, placed a shaking hand on the boy's shoulder. The screaming came to an abrupt halt. The room stiffened.

Shiro reeled his hand back, unsure of what to expect.

And then, Keith did the last thing anyone expected: he lifted up his head.

His face was tracked with tears, red, puffy. His expression was so vacant-- so.. empty. Eyes, glazed and dull, traced Shiro's figure.

"S'ro?" he asked.

Shiro nodded, wiping away a stray tear, "yeah... yeah, it's me, buddy."

Keith squinted, considering. "I'm sr'y, he said.

At that moment, nothing else mattered to Shiro. He pulled the red paladin to his chest, kissing his greasy hair. "No, don't. Don't be sorry. It's my fault... it's my fault, I'm sorry, Keith."

It was still his little brother; still the kid he would die for; still the kid he loved more than anything in the world. Nothing could ever change that.

"'Not y'ur f'lt." A sob escaped him, "I'm sc'red, Shi'o."

Shiro's heart dropped. "Don't be scared. I'm never going to let anything happen to you, okay?"

He tightened his grip around the boy as if to reaffirm.

Keith hiccuped. "But, th'y're co'ing, Sh'r-"

"No one's coming, Keith. You are safe. Here-- with us." He gestured to the team who had begun to shuffle closer.

Keith slumped against Shiro's shoulder, tears still skimming his cheeks. '''Pro'se?"

"Yes, I promise. I'll protect you."

Always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed. let me know what you think of the chapter.
> 
> here are my billion questions for the day: 
> 
> 1) do you think i write enough description or do you want more? 
> 
> 2) i'm really not trying to be creepy but its kinda unavoidable with this -- how old are you guys? im literally just wondering so i get an idea as for what age group im writing for so i can taylor the chapters to reflect that. but, i totally get if you dont want to answer.
> 
> also, i’m kinda just curious on how old you think i am based on my writing. 
> 
> anywho, ty for the love


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this issssss soooooooooo short and crappy i'm sorry. I had a really busy week and i just wanted to write something, you know?

Shiro sighed, glancing to the clothes sat to his left. He'd folded them over at least seven times-- partly to occupy his nerves, mostly to make sure everything was _perfect_ for when Keith got out of the shower. 

He'd only been in there a few dobashes, probably, but to Shiro, it'd felt endless. Timeless hours, swollen with anxiety. 

The atmosphere felt different.  _Keith_ felt different. Not bad, necessarily; just unfamiliar. Like one kid had been taken, and another returned. 

It was a sick, horrendous thought, he knew. After what Keith had been through (the extent of which, the paladins had no idea) of course, he'd be different. Who wouldn't? It was just-- Keith had finally begun to trust the rest of the team. He had started to break down his walls, allow them through the borders. In fact, the day before he'd been captured, Keith had told Shiro he'd finally found a family, Lance included.

Now, just like that, it was all gone. 

Shiro blinked away the thought as the bathroom door clicked open. 

Keith emerged, a bout of steam clouding the hallway. 

"How was your shower?" Shiro asked, rising to his feet.

Keith shrugged.

Shiro nodded awkwardly. His fists tightened at the scars and marks that occupied Keith's torso. Reluctantly, he forced his eyes away.  "Good," he said, taking a careful step toward Keith, the fabric dangled over his forearm,  "I- uh- I got you some-" he paused, gesturing toward the clothes. 

"Thanks, Shiro," Keith mumbled. 

A silence cast over the hallway, prompting Shiro to speak once again. "You can change in your room," he softly said, placing a  hand on Keith's shoulder. Automatically, the boy flinched away from the touch. It was small, nearly unnoticeable to the naked eye, but Shiro could feel the way Keith's muscle tightened under the pressure. 

Shiro immediately drew his arm away, letting it hang uselessly in the silent air. 

Keith rocked on his feet. "So," he began, "is my room still over there." The joke, feebled at best, did little to ease the thick air. 

Shiro allowed a sad smile to crawl across his lips. "Yeah," he all but whispered. 

Keith nodded. They stayed still for a few moments before Shiro let out a nervous laugh, beginning to walk down the hall, Keith in tow. 

"Do you want me to come in?" Shiro asked once they had reached the door. 

Keith thought for a moment before shaking his head. 

"Okay," Shiro breathed. "Um, here," he said, giving Keith the clothes. Even Keith's eyes didn't look the same. When he glanced up at Shiro they gleamed with guilt, confusion, fear. What happened to the fire? 

"I'll be outside if you need me." 

Keith's hand hovered over the doorknob. "It's okay you can go," he said, "I'll see you later." 

Shiro blinked. "Keith, I-" 

"I'm fine, Shiro," Keith muttered, stepping into his dark, stale room. 

The door closed firmly behind him. 

~

"It's just-- it's not-- him." 

The kitchen lights were harsh against his tired eyes. He sat at the table, arm a foundation for his head to rest upon. The team--minus Keith-- was gathered around, planted in chairs throughout the room. 

"Shiro," Hunk began. "He's been through a lot. You said yourself that when we found him he'd be different." 

Shiro wiped at his face. "I know, I know-- I, I don't..." he trailed off, picking at the stitching of his cotton sleeve. 

Pidge placed a small hand on his shoulder blade. "He's gonna be okay, Shiro," she said, rubbing circles across the fabric. 

Shiro sniffled, meeting Pidge's soft eyes. "I know... I know-- I just... he do-- it's like he doesn't recognize me." 

"He's just sca--" 

"He wouldn't even let me touch him." A broken tear slid down Shiro's cheek, "I don't-- I don't know what to do. I need him." 

Pidge wrapped her arms around Shiro's neck, giving him a back hug as Lance and Hunk each placed a hand on his forearm; Allura and Coran hovered close by

"You're not alone, my boy," Coran said, eyes glistening. The team nodded. 

"Coran, you don't understand. I don't recognize him." 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter i asked you all your ages and i guess its only fair to say mine.  
> i’m 14   
> i just have a dark ass mind that can think of this  
> so um  
> maybe that makes up for my crappy writing  
> haha... ha?  
> on a different note, let me know what you think. i always look forward to reading your comments.


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